


Love and gasoline

by ikindagotalittleangry



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M, Smut, Spoilers for Ending A ahead, a shower's included yay, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikindagotalittleangry/pseuds/ikindagotalittleangry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You do what go gotta do to survive". Michael is put to a severe test when he must choose between a life in false security and his innermost, hitherto deep hidden longings. But he finally can prove that he still has a heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first English written Trikey fanfiction. I apologize for any mistakes in advance :-)
> 
> I hid this story for a long time, too insecure to publish it. But I have decided not to keep it from this fandom any longer. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Michael’s body was thrown uncontrollably forth and back in his Tailgater when he crashed his car into Trevor’s. He should’ve fasten the seatbelt before stabbing his friend in the back again, he thought sarcastically. For a few moments, his whole body went numb, his head felt like it had been hit by a goddamn rock. He shook himself back to living, when he suddenly heard the sound of an opening car door and the fall of something. Or someone. Michael looked over to the damaged rusty Bodhi, but Trevor was missing. Michael climbed slowly out of his car, stepped around the mess he had caused.

Trevor lay on the ground, trying to crawl forward on his knees and elbows, his face filled with pure anger. Michael went over to Franklin, stepped to his right side, watching the nervous kid. Trevor growled, stared at the two of them, apparently unable to get back on his feet.

“You motherfucking bastards!” he screamed loudly in a volatile rage, making Michael tense up his whole body. His brows were lowered down over his sparkling brown eyes. “You fucking cowards! How could you do this to me?!”

Michael swallowed, then looked at Franklin who was calm on the surface, but Michael feared the up and coming criminal could lose the nerves. Well, not that Michael could blame him for it. They were about to kill their partner in crime, Franklin’s somehow-teacher and Michael’s life-long friend. 

“Ey dawg, this no personal shit!” Franklin shouted, trying to hide his trembling from Michael, but hell, the professional knew a lot better. “We have to get rid o’ yo’ ass for the fuckin’ FIB, man!” 

“Bullshit!” was the answer from Trevor, still lying on the ground which was filled more and more with the gasoline from the large tank he crashed in with his Bodhi, caused by no other than the man he thought to be his friend. “You’re fucking scared of me, both of you inexpressible assholes! Mmmh, you better be!” Trevor now stared at Franklin with a stabbing, deadly look. “After all we’ve been through, I thought we'd be friends! I’ve always wanted the best for you! But it seems like you’ve chosen this slippery fuckin’ snake to be your mentor!”

“We straight, dawg!” Franklin answered anxious. “I got no choice dude!”

“Oh, you really learned something from this stupid cunt next to you, did you?!” Trevor scoffed. “You’re just about to become that same, hypocrite, two-faced piece of shit like him!”

Franklin hesitated, thought about Trevor’s words, desperately disbelieving that he already had become what he never wanted to be. Michael looked at him in tense, waiting for his next action, when an unexpected call cut the thin, heavy air like a sharp knife. Trevor growled his name, send it out to him in pure anger, ended with frustration. Michael looked down to him, his face was contorted in pain an anger. The sight made him swallow hard, he unwillingly made a step back. Trevor breathed heavily, reaching his hand out for him. Michael could feel his heart tear apart.

“JUDAS!” Trevor yelled, unable to handle the overwhelming pain in his rough voice. “You fucking Judas! I should’ve never believed in your web of lies! You fucking stabbed me in the back again, you heartless ungrateful sickening bastard! I hope you will rot in hell for what you’ve done to me! I hope you will never get a night full of sleep again, and I hope you will finally get what you deserve!” Trevor was about to fucking shout his tongue out of his throat, but like to the most things in his miserable life, he did’nt give a rat’s ass about that.

Michael felt an uptearing pain in his chest, unable to speak, unable to say sorry, when he noticed an all too familiar sound. It was a gun being unlocked.

He gasped, turned his head in shock, and what he saw was Franklin pointing his weapon with a shaking hand at Trevor. Michael sighed. He knew this moment finally had to enter, but he couldn’t deal with it, he couldn’t fucking end this. But Franklin, hell, Franklin seemed to know how to finish unfinished business.

With a gun aiming for his head, Trevor’s rage nearly exploded, yet he stated it with such a fervour in his voice Michael was dead sure his old running buddy must’ve gone finally completely insane. 

“What’re you waiting for”, he growled, testing Franklin even in his very moment of nearing death. “Pull the fucking trigger! But at least have the decency to shoot me in the head instead of burning me into a crisp, would ya!” Franklin’s muscles tensed, he hardened his grip around the haft of his gun. Michael could hear his breathing. 

“I really don’ wanna do this, T”, he shouted out in anguish, his finger slowly pulled the trigger down. 

“Make the fuckin’ shot!” Trevor yelled, and Michael saw that Franklin was ready. But _he_ wasn’t. Something deep down in his heart said “No”, he couldn’t, no, he _didn’t_ want to lose Trevor again. He failed. He failed on giving up the only human being who has ever praised him, ever comforted him, maybe ever loved him. His heartbeat got so loud that it became the only sound he could hear. No, he can’t let that happen. 

Before he even noticed, he harshly grabbed Franklin by his shoulder and pushed him back, stepping in front of him with opened arms. 

“No!” he rather commanded than shouted, giving his utterly surprised friend a fierce look. Franklin let his arm sink immediately, looking at Michael in total disbelief.

“There’s gotta be another way!” Michael stated, slowly sinking his arms. “We won’t kill each other. I’m sick of this shit. Don’t even try, I won’t let that happen.”

“But what about Haines, dawg?” Franklin asked with a desperate expression on his face.

“I don’t know”, Michael hat to admit in his broad mid-western accent. “I’ll think of something. Now get in your car and run. Maybe these assholes are already out to get you. Hide until tomorrow, I’ll tell Lester to give you a call once we’re set up. Go, son.”

“Man, what about you?” Franklin asked impatiently.

“I’ll handle T”, Michael answered in a low voice. 

“A’ight, I gotchu”, Franklin explained, quickly making his way to his car and drove away fast.

Michael let a deep sigh out of his mouth before he finally turned around to Trevor. Slow and steady he stepped over to him, trying to be dissuaded by the wild expression on his face, the bare of his teeth, his white knuckled fists. Carefully he kneeled down, looking into Trevor’s eyes with sorrow and a massive amount of guilt. 

“I know there’s no words to beg for your forgiveness”, Michael almost whispered by lowering his view, and continued before Trevor could interfere. “I am truly, truly sorry for what I’ve done to you. Now and nine years ago. Especially now.” He heard Trevor snort contemptuously. Michael fought hard but finally managed to look into Trevor’s furious eyes again.

“I’ll do every to make up for this. I promise.” 

“I highly doubt that”, Trevor hissed, looking down at his hands. Michael sighed guiltily. 

“But first lemme help ya. You hurt?” he asked with a concerned look.

“Fuck you!” Trevor snapped, trying to get on his feet alone, but failed. Michael’s stomach turned over by the severe stench of gasoline of that Trevor had been almost entirely covered by. 

“Come on”, Michael said, gripping his friend below his shoulders and dragged him back onto his feet. Trevor let Michael help him, but didn’t say a word. 

“Why the fuck did you double-cross me again, huh, Mikey?” Trevor hissed, still angry, even though a little bit less than before. “Do I mean nothing to you?”

“More than you think”, came the short answer, while Michael laid his arm around Trevor’s shoulder, the other around his waist. Trevor stumbled more than he walked, he was weak, hurt and beaten. 

“Oh, really?”, Trevor snorted in pure unbelief. “Yeah, I know right?! It has to be love when you fake your own death to your best buddy, never contacted him for nine fucking years, never told him the complete truth about everything, but keep him entangle more and more in your web of filthy lies” he spitted between his gritted teeth.

“I did this because I love you”, Michael defended himself. “I did this to keep the fucking feds off your sorry ass.”

“Well thank you then!” Trevor shouted, looking at Michael furiously. “Thanks for leaving me, for making me mourn about the stupid shit that you are for almost a decade, and for tearing my heart out of my chest!”

Michael couldn’t do anything but to listen to Trevor’s despair, holding him tight against his body. It was when he heard him sob that he finally looked at Trevor again. 

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered repeatedly, hardened his grip around Trevor’s lower body. They slowly came towards the building Michael hoped being the bathroom for the workers on the oilfield. Carefully he leaned his friend towards the wall and broke into the building by unlocking the door. The moonlight shone into the windows and the now opened door, and Michael saw a small counter with private rooms behind it, so he figured they had to sell gas right away from here. He got Trevor in, and in silence the two made their way heading for the restrooms in the dark. Michael opened a door and much to his relief, there was a small shower and a sink. He switched the ceiling light on, helped Trevor into the shower and stood in front of him directly under the shower, so that he could stay dry when the water would run. Trevor’s sight made his heart crumble in his chest. The taller man avoided to look at him, his head and his shoulders were sunk, refusing to let Michael see the unbearable pain his face wore. Michael tried to swallow the guilt down his throat, but it crawled back as soon as he forced it down, narrowing his lungs, taking his breath. He turned the water on, adjusted the temperate until it was comfortable, reached for a bottle of shampoo and began to wash Trevor’s hair, as soft and gentle as he could. 

“Will you ever be able to forgive me?” he heard himself say, much to his own surprise. Trevor scoffed. “I wouldn’t count on it”, he returned, his voice was low and quiet and without any tense or anger in it, which let Michael shiver. Trevor slowly closed his eyes, his face softened a little, and Michael supposed it had to be a long, long time ago that someone cared for Trevor that he did in this very moment. Although he encountered Michael with pure hatred a few minutes ago, he now seemed to enjoy Michael’s hands rubbing gently over his head, like a cat being pet. Michael smiled a little, enjoying the familiar touches by himself, and the familiarity they shared with each other in this moment. 

Then, without a warning, Trevor lifted his head and opened his eyes, let them wander above until they met Michael’s, drilled into them, and Michael could feel a chill running down his spine he never experienced before. Trevor’s hazel eyes showed something between deep distrust and deep love, and Michael fell for the sight. He took his face in his hands, dragging the man a bit towards him, shortened the space between them and then felt the sudden urge to kiss him. He pressed his lips onto Trevor’s without moving them or any part of his body. Trevor stood there like he was frozen, caught in the moment. Michael ended the kiss after a few seconds, felt the blush and heat on his face and couldn’t believe what he was doing, neither did Trevor, and for a few moments they stood still, just staring at each other in utter surprise. Then, softly, Trevor shook his head with a crooked smirk. 

“That was the last fucking thing I ever expected to come from you”, he said, staring disbelieving right into Michael’s eyes, which led to a sudden rage within the smaller, corpulent man. 

“I’ll wipe that fucking smile of yours outta your fucking face”, he snarled, gripping his fingers into the collar of Trevor’s dirty, worn-out, wet, gasoline-soaked shirt and pressed their mouths together, rough and enraged. Trevor responded to this new kind of play, shoved Michael backwards until his back was forced against the cold tiles and pushed his body against him, their lips hunting each other with a rising temper. No one of them was ever to loosen the grip or the kiss. Having lived a life of competition, of winning or losing, of being superior or subordinate, their everlasting battle reached a whole new level within that blank, white, tiled walls of the shower. Michael forced himself not to ask himself what he was doing, why he was doing it, and, above all, why he even liked it. He never caught himself having any feelings for Trevor that went beyond friendship and some kind of brotherly love. But now, in this very moment, he shoved his hands upon Trevor’s ratty old shirt, let them run across his broad, hairy chest, his belly, his waistline, let them experience every inch of his upper body while kissing him as intensive and passionate as he couldn’t remember having his own wife kissed like that the last time. The noises his old friend made, the groans, the sighs, the heavy breathing, caused a rebellion in his stomach, he felt Trevor’s hand squeezing his rump and his other pulling his hair roughly as his fingers are gripped into them. Then, all of a sudden, Michael had to think about Amanda, the woman he married over 20 years ago, the woman he treated worse than some of his enemies, but he swore to reform, to be the husband to her she deserved. He pushed Trevor away, gently but firmly, caught his view, trying to catch his breath, and when he looked into these relish, longing, you could even say seductive brown eyes, he lost it. His heart made a jump across his thorax, and before he could even notice it, he surrendered. Maybe his massive guilt towards Trevor made him laying his hands on the other man’s hip, pulling him closer, hearing his own blood rushing through his head. Maybe it was just a twisted, bewildering sort of emotion that made his eyes looking at this single water drop as it ran from Trevor's nose over his scarred, hot, exciting lips, his thick, strong neck, down his distinctive collar bone, until it disappeared under his shirt. Or maybe it was something different, something totally unknown, maybe soaring within the years of their separation, but definitely rising disproportionately since they were together again, maybe always having lied underneath the surface during their younger years, back in the days they were only stupid kids with their heads full of shit, Michael didn’t give a goddamn shit about it, when he drew Trevor near to his mouth, raising his own head until he reached the taller one’s ear, whispering in a low, hoarse, tempting voice: “Take off the shirt.”

Trevor didn’t wait for a second invitation, got his top over his head as fast as he could, and immediately felt Michael’s hands all over his body, and he unhesitatingly bent down and tilted his head for another, exhilarated kiss. But the aging man with his long, combed back, dark brown hair was one step ahead of him, and he could’t let that fat old sloth in front of him win. So he decided to bring a little more heat into the game, pushed his right leg between Michael’s, cramping his long, nimble, but vigorous fingers deep into his shoulders and finally led his tongue the way to where Michael’s was hiding for far too long. He had been warmly welcomed, if not even eagerly awaited. Michael hummed, once, but pleasurable, while Trevor explored his mouth every inch for inch, impetuous, but sensitive, and good Lord above, he was such a good kisser! Michael could feel himself losing into this unrestrained kissing, his growing affection for Trevor more and more, he ran his hands through the dark, but less becoming hair of the man he most of the time refers as a uncontrollable, unstable psychopath. But now it was Michael who couldn’t control himself, who let his actions slip away piece by piece, and who wanted this intimate feeling they shared never let come to an end. He could Trevor’s hands feel shivering for lust and greed, and he had to swallow hard when he withdrew from his mouth and let his hot, wet lips wander down at Michael’s temple, his cheek, his jaw line, down his throat until the point his shirt denied the access to his collar bone, and Michael flinched when he noticed Trevor’s hands striking down his shirt, until they reached his lower parts and impatiently unbuckled his belt. Michael was unable to speak, unable to fight back, although a silent voice deep down in his head commanded him to. He was totally captured in Trevor’s actions, the pitiful attempt to keep Trevor’s strong hands away from his private parts ended in Trevor grapping his wrists, holding them against the tiles, grinding his crotch against Michael’s with what he assumed was most unlikely the key of his car, groaning and purring. Michael led his focus on his own lower body part and what Trevor had caused it to do, reacting towards him in a way Michael never thought of being ever possible. Trevor’s recent actions made it even worse, and soon Michael inwardly begged for his friend to finally do something with the mess he was responsible for. His power of speech existed of nothing more than quiet moans and sighs, he was completely incapable of telling even one single word. What added was his awareness of his shyness, letting him behave like a virgin just right before her first time, which, when he thought quite about hit, totally hit the spot in a funny way. Jesus, he couldn’t Trevor let _that_ do with him. Or could he?

Michael knew that Trevor was kind of into men, and he never gave a flying fuck about that, as long as Trevor let him alone. But his curiosity of Trevor’s skills he experienced doing intimate things with the same sex rose second by second.

Trevor, noticing that Michael obviously turned into a statue, stopped and looked at him with his special Trevor Philips look, but way more arousing. He pushed his torso forward so their bodies almost touched each other, but kept a little space between them. Michael’s breath intensified. Trevor half closed his eyes, tilted his head up so he looked down at Michael from the corner of his eyes, grinned his devilish grin and whispered in a low, rough voice: 

“Don’t you think it’s finally time for you to turn into a man of action instead being a man of thinking?”

They exchanged a deep, piercing look, Trevor’s mouth was half open, but still the crooked, alluring smile was attached to it. Michael, not willing to turn down the challenge and lose this dirty little game, bit his bottom lip, fought back his hands and grabbed Trevor’s crotch roughly. Trevor exhaled and narrowed his eyes, then smiled even dirtier than he had before. Michael got a little bit confused and uncertain by the feeling in his hand, but when he heard Trevor humming “Mmmh, didn’t expect you like it rough, sugar”, he got incited again, and frantically he opened Trevor’s belt, unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper and let his hand slip beneath his underwear. The sensation was completely new to him, had he never touched a man’s private parts before, and Trevor, feeling so warm - if not to say hot – and hard in his hand made him being insecure, but oddly incredible arousing at the same time. Trevor, who was supported against the wall Michael leaned against, laid his head at the backside of his right hand, Michael’s breath exhaled at this special little spot between his neck and his collar bone, closed his eyes and bit his lips, humming relish into Michael’s ear. Michael could feel himself becoming harder by Trevor’s unrestrained expression of his increasing arousal.

“If you only knew how much I longed for this”, Trevor moaned, and Michael suddenly, without even thinking about it, realised that Trevor was the only human being close to him that let him feel wanted and needed for a long time. Michael let this sudden emotion sink deep into him, slowly closed his eyes, and in an instant put his other arm around Trevor’s back, holding him close to him as he never would let him go again. 

Trevor, utterly surprised by Michael’s unexpected, abrupt approach of sentimentality, straightened himself up, his chest held tight to Michael’s, gazed deep into his green eyes, and finally the moment he waited for so goddamn fucking long occurred. Finally, he had the chance to undeceive his feelings for the man who abandoned him nine years ago, who broke his heart, who removed him out of his life, but who still, after everything that’s happened, meant the world to him. Trevor probably was the biggest idiot that ever walked over the earth, but as for most other things, he didn’t give a single fuck about that.

Michael glared at him as if he waited for something to happen, so Trevor took the opportunity being offered to. He put Michael’s face between his palms, intensified his look, and whispered as soft and sensitive as he never did before in his entire fucking life: “I love you.”

Michael, narrowing his eyes a bit, giggled. “I know” he replied, soaking Trevor’s eyes within his own, watched his expression getting surprised, then he smiled and put their mouths together to a intensive kiss. Soon, sentiment feelings were replaced for lust and greed, and Trevor, encouraged by Michael’s not-turning him down, shoved his hands everywhere of the smaller man’s body, much to Michael’s pleasure. “Where were we?”, he groaned, putting his hand back into Trevor’s pants, finally decided to give a shit about everything and everyone except the man in front of him. It must have been decades someone told him the words Trevor did, and he felt kind of superior, in a way. But who could blame him? Who wouldn’t want to be loved? And Trevor’s hands, his hot, fitful breath, the way his body sympathised with his own, all of it turned him so fucking on, and he couldn’t and didn’t want to hold back any longer. He grabbed one of Trevor’s hands, dragged it down to his own groin, and Trevor finally freed it from the clothes, explored every single inch with his playful fingers, making Michael unveil the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard.  
Trevor’s prestidigitation made him strengthen his grip, trying to copy his actions to satisfy him. The oncoming feeling of slowly losing himself made him completely unaware that it was his actually best friend who made him feel so incredibly good. In his hand, Trevor grew stronger more and more, and Michael felt his greedy lips and tongue on the right side of his neck practically everywhere.

“You fuckin’ like hell waited for this, didn’t you?” Michael teased him, trying to get his attention back. 

“I’ve already given up on that”, he heard Trevor panting, and then felt his fingernails bore into his back. “Shut the fuck up and stop ruining this with your meaningless jabbering. Trying to hide your insecurity, don’t you?” Trevor shot back.

“Insecurity? Still?” Michael wondered, testing Trevor’s patience by stroking his length harder. He heard Trevor groan intensified, pleased by taking the game back. But Trevor pulled himself together, shoved Michael’s hand away, pulled back his own, much to Michael’s discomfort, and then gave him a challenging look.

“Prove it”, he rumbled while he slowly sunk on his knees.

First, Michael didn’t know if he should panic, as he hadn’t been prepared for this to come. But as soon as he perceived Trevor’s warm, wet, mouth as he was sucking his length, his tongue playfully wrapping around it in all imaginable kind of ways, he groaned loudly, feeling his face getting hotter and his knees tremble. He let himself go, only concentrated on his hard in Trevor’s mouth, and decided to enjoy what he gave him. Trevor wrapped his arms around Michael’s hip, then let his hands rest on Michael’s cheeks. Michael, caught within his exuberant lust, carefully laid his palms on Trevor’s head, trying not to drag him against his crotch, which he could hardly resist. Instead, he stroke his hands through Trevor’s black hair wildly, his groans became louder, while Trevor hummed low and softly. 

Just when Michael was about to pace down the rollercoaster, Trevor released him gently, making Michael sigh in a mixture of desire and disappointment. Trevor smirked at him, knowing he had his old friend just where he wanted him to have. Michael levelled his eyes on him suspiciously. 

“What’s with that stupid smile o’ yours, huh?” he asked distrustfully. 

Trevor growled in a scoff. “Oh, I just love the fact that you’re melting like ice cream in my hands… ‘course, not exactly in my hands, that is”, he whispered low in a moan, still wearing that crooked smile.

“You think you’re better than me?” Michael asked challenging, adjusting his grip around Trevor’s length.

“Always have been, you lazy old fuck”, Trevor shot back, copying Michael’s recent action.

“We’ll see”, Michael groaned, turning Trevor’s world literally into an up and down. Slowly the man he was about to kill a few minutes ago lost his control, trying to cling at the straw to keep his attention – Michael’s straw.

Thenceforth, it was a race. A race of two men who are not going to grow old in grace. It always has been the competition that kept them together, the urgent need to beat the other in no matter what. Be it drinking, taking bigger scores, making jokes and puns on another, proving who’s more of a man. Neither of them could accept losing to the other. There was only one rule for their matches which counted for every single competition: the second winner’s the first loser.

They sped up, trying to reach the goal, but this time, things were different. They literally tried to push the other man through the finish line first – new kind of play, but the same way to act. Now the second one would beat the game. No obstacles, no pauses, just the foreseeable way to go. 

As far as their mutual indulging let them, they looked at each other’s eyes, even though with interruptions from time to time, when their yearning for each other made them closing their eyes temporarily and trying to force the overwhelming craving for a release down. But none of them wanted to give up, to lose the game. 

Then Trevor suddenly passed Michael, his body bent forward, he supported his other arm behind Michael against the tiles, his eyes closed tightly, his face distorted in an almost unbearable lust. “Oh, good Lord above”, he groaned painfully, increasing Michael’s own longing with his rasping voice. 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to give it up”, Michael teased, heavily concentrated of not being the one to end by himself. 

“The fuck I am”, Trevor growled, giving Michael a slight, but effectively push towards the goal. 

“Sweet Jesus”, Michael gasped out of breath, and now they were even again. 

“God, Michael, it feels so good, it feels so fucking good”, Trevor moaned, his breathing intensified, and he couldn’t stop his hips from moving in their own speed. He seemed to have decided to give a fuck about their stupid game and letting his feelings control his actions. Or so Michael thought when he suddenly recognized a harder, squeezing grip of Trevor’s hand. Maybe this was a good moment to, for the first time in their friendship, fuck this lame competition thing. But there was his ambition, his way too high pride, although it grew little and little each second. 

“Don’t stop now, don’t stop”, Trevor moaned right in his left ear, pressing his chest against Michael’s closely. “Shit, M, let me come”, he begged, his voice cracked and was replaced by loud moans and groans. 

Michael felt the end coming near, but remained silent, Trevor’s sounds echoed through his head, and it was all he wanted to hear right now. He slowly closed his eyes. There is was, the finish line. He could see it clearly. Trevor was close to him, he knew. Feeling his length flinch, Michael uncontrollably first released a couple of loud groans and then finally himself. He felt Trevor’s tension getting loose at the same time, his body softened, he let himself fall against Michael, and almost got silent, breathing heavily in exhaustion. Michael could smell his sweat which was running down his neck, but he loved it. Then he smelled what had to be the liquid in his hand, it had to be it, because his own had a different odour. 

Trevor slowly wrapped his stained arm around Michael, giving him a breathless kiss on his neck. 

“Jesus Christ”, Michael gasped, in order to break the awkward silence. A strange feeling kept creeping into his mind, slamming right into his head, when reality had finally got him back. It felt like crashing into a wall. He didn’t want to step off the gas pedal, and this is what he got. Fucking reality. Suddenly, Trevor’s body felt displeasing. He tried everything he could to fight this feeling away. He sighed silently and closed his eyes. How on earth could something so right feel so wrong?

Finally, Trevor stepped back, smirking at Michael. “Mmh, I could get used to that, sugar”, he rumbled, glancing amorously at him. Michael faked a smile and slipped past Trevor, avoiding to look at him. He stepped out of the shower and began to wash his hands over the sink. 

“I have to go back”, he mumbled, and a dumpling closed his throat as he touched his wedding ring with the other hand. “I know”, he heard Trevor say quietly, trying to ignore the sadness and disappointment in his voice. 

After Michael dried his hands, he left the washroom and stretched his neck. A few moments later he heard Trevor’s steps behind him, until the noise ended. Michael refused to turn around.

“Do I still smell of gas?” he heard Trevor ask sneaky. That crafty fuck. But Michael saw through him.

He looked over his shoulder with a crooked smile.

“Like you give a shit about that”, he answered laughing. Trevor gave him a surprised look, then shrugged smirking. 

“Mikey: One! Trevor: Zero!” he proclaimed and turn his back to Michael, shoving his hands down his pockets. 

Michael peered at him, his guilty conscience spread all over his face. He wanted to say something, _anything_ \- but nothing came to his mind. He sighed, turned around and hoped that Trevor would finally look at him, then he waved him off. 

“I’ll see you around, T”, he shouted, his throat hurt like he hadn’t drank something for days. 

It hurt even more when Trevor remained silent.

Michael quickened his walk and reached his car. With a trembling jaw he fumbled his car keys off his jacket and opened the driver’s door. When he got in, he stretched his head back and exhaled loudly. Get your shit together, he commanded to himself. He started the engine and drove off.

 

When he finally arrived at his mansion, he recognized that the lights inside had already been switched off. A short look at his watch told him it was half past two in the morning. Fuckin' A. That’ll be a short night, he scoffed. 

As quiet as possible, he opened the main door (his skills as a former robber and thief have been more than useful), then he sneaked upstairs. Slowly, he opened the door to the bedroom. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him and watched Amanda, listening if there was a sound. She seemed to be asleep, and he let a silent sigh come off his mouth. Carefully he sat on the bed ridge, took his shoes off and then his suit. Amanda still didn’t move. Only in his underwear, he folded up his clothes, holding them in his hands. He caressed over the soft material with his left hand. His view stuck on the wedding ring. He shoved it off and laid it on the beside table. His head sunk, his eyes shot, and he swallowed. Amanda sleeping next to him gave him the fucking creeps. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to look into her eyes again. 

He let his fingers grip in his suit. It was completely crumpled. Amanda would ask him where he had been, why he came home so late, why she had to go to bed alone. Michael felt terrible and guilty. He prevented his recent memories from creeping into his mind. Hesitantly, he lifted his forearms, hold the suit close to his face. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t think of doing this, he just did it, like a devil sitting on his right shoulder told him to.

The feeling was overwhelming and awkward at the same time. His shirt smelled like him, like the perfume he usually wore. There was a little bit of shampoo on that shirt, too. He smelled a slight hint of gas, and the hair in his neck lined up. He sniffed at another spot. The smell of his own cum was strange and a little bit disgusting to him. Near his own he recognized Trevor’s. He couldn’t hold the silent sigh back that escaped his mouth. He paused.  
How could something so wrong feel so right? 

Michael felt his heart pound in his chest. He forced himself to calm down and took a few deep breaths. Then the custom ceased. Back in the days of their separation, he often used to ask himself what Trevor might do in that moment, when he was about to go to sleep. If he sat at home, drunk or high or both. If he was somewhere in the streets or in the wilderness, drunk or high or both. If he ate something. If he already was asleep. If he finally got caught by the cops and made himself new friends in jail for the long and lonely nights. If he crashed a stranger’s wedding party. If he was involved in a gun or a hand fight. If he laid in his bed crying like a baby. If he was still alive.

Michael shuddered. Then he cracked a smile and shrugged. You always have to worry about that fucking bastard, he thought, chuckling inwardly, like if he was speaking to someone else.


End file.
